


Sehnsucht

by Spatzi



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spatzi/pseuds/Spatzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehnsucht — /ˈzānˌzo͝oKHt/ noun; a deep emotional state of longing, yearning, or pining</p><p>
  <i>That's exactly why, perched on top of a table previously occupied by Alley and with the good doc's hands roaming your neck and shoulders, you feel no twinge of guilt at wanting to kiss him, pull him in and touch him in return, make him feel the way you do.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sehnsucht

**Author's Note:**

> Written thanks to episode 5,[Crossroads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5M60Eu1U8ls).

You know it's wrong, the kind of wrong that gets you a one-way ticket to hell. Had you been told there would come a time during the war where you'd end up in a situation like this you probably would have laughed it off, maybe even mockingly played along for a bit.  
  
There's nothing comical about it though, not now when it, _this_ , seems to be the only thing closest to intimacy that you can afford.  
  
You miss being touched. Miss being touched in the way a person is supposed to be touched—with feeling and tenderness, unlike the dead weight of steal and the roughness of uniform fabric caked with blood and dirt. It's been a while since something like that has happened.  
  
That's exactly why, perched on top of a table previously occupied by Alley and with the good doc's hands roaming your neck and shoulders, you feel no twinge of guilt at wanting to kiss him, pull him in and touch him in return, make him feel the way you do.  
  
When you do reach out to touch him, it's only to catch his wrist as he moves to dig in his bag for morphine.  
  
"Save it, Doc. It doesn't hurt."  
  
He looks about to protest, but maybe sees something in your eyes and says nothing. He lowers his head instead and moves to squeeze your arm before rummaging in his kit for bandages. You do as every good patient is supposed to do; you sit still, let his breath ghost across your cheek as he patches you up. When he's done you let him leave.  
  
You miss being touched, but you know it's wrong.


End file.
